Isabelle Goode M73, is participating in the Victorian High Achievers Program this term. Isabelle attends a weekly WebEx lesson and then completes additional tasks to continue to improve her skills in English. Recently, Elisabeth Murdoch College were contacted by VHAP who were so impressed by Isabelle’s work, they wanted to publish it! Below is Isabelle’s piece of writing titled ‘Vertisivm’.

The mechanical handwriting of the actuary marked the pages of writing that filled the file, lying upon the table, in stark black ink, there lay the name, Sam Cater. Sam Cater, was a name whispered hesitantly from the mouths of the young, as though if said too loud they would summon the hellish creature, a legend to some a monster to others. Yet, it lay resting dormant upon the paper, beside a photo of a young man.

The young face of a boy printed upon the paper; a boyish smile etched across his face dimples carved into his cheeks as he stared at the camera. The innocent face of a young man, who could be no older than twenty-five, yet, below the photo there lay a list. Marking every monstrosity thought to be performed against the ACP, under the name of Sam Cater. The list made up majority of the file and seemed to mark down every crime one person could possibly commit.

The list of monstrosities supposedly performed by the very man, that sat on the other side of the mirror, his face contorted in a bizarre expression, with his face scrunched up and his tonged prodding out of his mouth, staring at the mirror as though to make those, he knew, were watching him laugh. It appeared to be working as a red headed lady, Jemma, sat chuckling within the confines of the watching room, as her friend read the file with a mixture of disgust and impression.

“I think I’m ready, open the doors Jem. He’s waited long enough and if he’s alone any longer I think he may start to dance to entertain you,” Amir mused, the corners of his mouth lifting up slightly at the image it created.

The room housing Sam Cater, was one of the Amir’s favourite places in the ACP’s district, despite its harsh and bleak appearance, it held a certain feeling of home to Amir along with its usefulness of interrogation.

The walls were plain white, specks of crimson splatted the near pristine walls form past inhabitants, the crimson liquid bled so deep that the endless amounts of bleach used to clean the room could not leeching the colouring completely from the walls. A single light dangled lifelessly from the ceiling, illumination the room with a faint glow, leaving room for the shadows to skulk about the corners.

The surface of the wall was cold, biting at Amir’s fingertips as he dragged them across the pale wall, the colourless feature looking even more dull besides the sun kissed skin of Amir’s hand. With arithmetic breaths Amir prepared himself, a cold, impassive exterior falling into place, the deception, a weapon as dangerous as the power crawling beneath their skin.

With a screech the door was lurched open, exposing a lanky figure clothed in a pristine suit, their eyes focused with determination as they rest upon the man who now sat watching them, with interest. His smirk verbatim from the one frozen within the confinements of the file. Except this one held a hint of curiosity and animalist amusement.

“Why, hello there Freckles. May I ask why I’ve been trapped here for the past five hours? You know my own mind isn’t the best company,” Sam inquired with a charming smirk, plastered on his pale face.

With a monotone voice Amir spoke, “We have reason to believe that you have been plotting against the ACP.”

With an animalistic smirk carved into his face, Sam repeated, “You have reason to believe do you, and you think that I’m part of that. Why I never, I’m barely out of adolescence.” He spoke with feigned innocence, scarred hands waving around, as though to emphasis his point.

“I would never fight back against a government that is killing and brainwashing the citizens that live under it.” Sam spoke with a joyous tone though his words held a bitter underlining, waiting to be released from their happy facade. A breathless laugh passed through Amir’s lips at the mimicry, Sam Cater certainly lived up to his expectations in one extent, no one was brave enough to speak badly about the ACP, especially not to Amir.

The smile that never seemed to leave the young man’s face managed to annoyed Amir, even more than the nickname Freckles, which really wasn’t the most creative of nicknames seeing as though Amir’s arms and face looked as though someone had spilt splotches of ink all over them.

Annoyed at the enthusiastic attitude Sam had adapted, Amir sat down in the chair across from him, hitting the seat with a thud, the metal legs scratching across the floor.

“As I stated before, we have reason to believe that you are working against the ACP,” Amir continued their tone heavy as their face stayed in an emotionless expression.

With a carefree laugh Sam inquired, “So, you have reason to believe, do you? And what may that be because for someone with no evidence you’ve sure put a lot of crimes against my name.”

Yet, again Amir stated evermore irked at the interruption the young man brought, as Amir was not one to be interrupted, “We have plenty of evidence, and that is none of your concern.” As he spoke the shadows lurking about the corners of the room seemed to prowl out in anticipation, tendrils escaping in excitement, as the light above flickered.

With a start he jumped up, propelling himself from his seat, however despite the sudden change in actions Amir did nothing but adjust his gaze. Sam continued to strut across the room until he stood beside Amir, close enough that with of flick of his wrist he would be able to harm Amir.

However, he did nothing of the sort, he simply sat upon the table, perched with his long legs crossed underneath him, one of his feet dangling off the rickety table in mid-air, and spoke, “Well, Freckles I think it is my business as it is me, you’re accusing of executing such crimes. And I also believe that if there was any evidence against me, I wouldn’t be able to sit here and do this,” he brought a scarred hand up to Amir’s face and tapped his nose, the face of whom scrunched up and flinched back in vexation.

“Now, don’t be so bothersome, and stop looking at me like I kicked your dog.” He said with yet another smile thrown Amir’s way, one of his legs still dangling from the table as he began to hum a tune, fingers fiddling with an old watch.

Amir could only imagine how much joy Jem must be getting out of this, they were sure that she would already be in hysterics and would loom this meeting over him for years to come.

“Did you commit those crimes?” Challenged Amir, their eyes held curiosity, his bushy brows furrowing in interest. They, seemingly unbeknownst to Sam, started attacking at the barriers of his mind, willing him to tell the truth, accidently mutter a secret, let his guard down. Anything that could be used as evidence.

A hearty laugh burrowed out of Sam’s throat, his face contorted with mirth, “Oh my dearest Freckles, I’m afraid your little power doesn’t work on me.” Sam declared, savouring the look of unbeknownst confusion that spread upon the person in front of his face, their eyebrows shot up a comical look of abashment before it disappeared as quickly as it came.

In a defensive tone, their voice struggling to remain steady Amir spoke, “I have no idea as to what you’re hinting at, but you seem to be getting of topic-” Sam cut him off, with a boyish grin and a tap at the old watch hanging from his wrist, he hopped from of the table, his legs untangling and falling into place beneath him.

“Well, as fun as it has been Freckles, it seems as though it is my time to go. Hopefully we get to see each other soon, I’ll be waiting!” Sam teased, moving back towards the other side of the room, but not ruffling a hind in Amir’s hair.

Calculated Amir rose form their uncomfortable seat, however this controlled attitude quickly faded, their body lurching forward to grab at the other’s clothes, as Sam brought two fingers up to his brow in saluted, with a matching charming grin, disappearing into a nothing.

Amir was left, gapping at the space that used to house Sam Cater not moments before, mouth agape he turned to face the mirror, on the other side of which they were sure to find a Jemma with the same expression him.

There had never been a record of Sam Cater, having a gift, let alone one as powerful as teleportation, being able to resist Amir’s lure and break through the wards surrounding the ACP was a feat Amir had never before borne witness to.

Year 12- Valedictory